Free The CleanSweep Conspiracy by Chuck Waldron Page A

a simple touch, but he felt her tension drain away. Carl smiled.
    He recognized that it was an odd time for him to realize he might be in love with her.
    He watched the men examine the cameras and cases. His legs went rubbery when they grabbed the one away from Susan — his old camera.
    Did I hide the cards well enough?
    He watched them take the old camera case and camera apart. A man who seemed to have the requisite technical skills examined the camera. When he pulled the cassette tape out of its slot, he stared at it for a long time, then finally tossed it on the hood of an adjacent parked car, discarding it as unimportant. He turned to the woman in charge, “Nothing, boss. I’m sorry, I mean — and — ”
    “You said your informant was reliable,” she cut him off with a harsh wave, her voice sounding like brittle fingernails on a blackboard. “Take everything. When you get back to headquarters, I want you to go over it all with a microscope. I want your report by the end of the day.” She turned and strode to a waiting car, not bothering to listen for a response.
    Carl placed his hand on Susan’s arm as they watched the two cameras, cases, and accessories being loaded into the open door of a minivan, a Nissan Quest. The automatic door slid closed with quiet efficiency, and soon the van and chase car sped down the ramp of the parking deck. He pointed to the discarded cassette tape, still on the hood of a car. Forgotten.
    “Are they gone?” Susan whispered.
    Carl was surprised at the calm in her voice. He shrugged an answer and looked at the plastic cassette. “I think we just stepped in a big pile of shit.” It was the only thing he could think of to say. He picked up the cassette tape, holding it as if it were a stick of dynamite with a burning fuse — a very short burning fuse.
    Carl sensed something else. It was a sudden change in their relationship, and it felt seismic to him. Susan was suddenly following Carl’s lead. Self - assured, with an inner strength, she often seemed fearless, rarely allowed any displays of affection. It wasn’t as if she had flipped a switch or had suddenly decided to surrender her power, giving the leadership role to him. It was something different.
    She realized it, too, and finally put it into words. “This is one of those times when we need to rely on your expertise,” she told him, no doubt in her voice. “I’m damn good at being a journalist, but this is something big. It’s going to take both of us to work it, and it’s going to take your street skills and contacts.” She paused. “I’ve always known we’re a team. I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for you.”
    Carl was astonished at the admission, and felt his face redden. He turned his attention to the cassette and said, “We need to hurry. We have to warn Tremain.” He scrolled through the contacts on his backup cell phone, the one he used as a throwaway. Before he dialed, he turned to Susan. “We need to meet with him. The three of us have turned over a rock and some very nasty bugs are crawling into the daylight.”
    He looked up abruptly from the phone. Susan nodded, waiting for Carl to tell her what to do next.
    “If the stories are true, they can track this,” he said, holding one phone up. “It has one of the latest SIM cards. They can track it with GPS technology.” He pulled an old flip phone from another pocket of his photographer’s vest. “I bet you haven’t seen one like this in years. Let them try to track it. I’ve had it since 1989.” He began laughing. “We like to think ‘new and improved’ is best, but sometimes the old ways have their plusses. Someone might still be able to eavesdrop on our conversation, but they won’t be able to pinpoint our location.”
    “You’re one of the few people I know who would still have one like that.” She chuckled. “I’m sure glad you had that old camera. You saved our butts, using it for that hidden - card trick.”
    “We